He laughed at that and shook his head, "I'm not a writer, that's my best friend. My, um... Soon to be husband." He smiled fondly and stirred at the foam in his cup. "I'm more a man of science than of art, which is odd, considering my family line. I'm rather hard to inspire, one way or another." He scratched through his hair and pushed it back behind his ear. "Though it's amazing to know you knew Marlowe. He's always been my favorite playwright. He had to have been divinely inspired to write such deeply beautiful, tragic plays. I'm honored to be sitting next to his muse." He bowed his head then, a small bow of gratitude, of honor.
"Um. Back to things. Well, I'm sure that you've got a home, though I don't know if it'd be where you landed. Have you got a purse or wallet that you didn't have before? Usually, it has a form of identification that'll show you where you live, and you can find out more about who you replaced or what you do, job-wise. Sometimes, people get put into jobs that fit them perfectly, sometimes they replace someone with a job that's horribly incongruous to them. You don't have to keep the job or the place you live, but it's always good to know you have somewhere to start." He was good at remembering his lines, better at that than going entirely on improv, especially when it was with someone he was rather bashful around.